peculiar things.

it's a weird sensation when, for whatever reason, you realize that the hand soap you're using smells exactly like your father's aftershave (or should smell like your father's aftershave, or smells the way that you've always idealized your father's aftershave smells like).

it's better than dissolving to tears after inhaling another man's pipe smoke on 86th street, though. that's always embarrassing. and peculiar.